Of Permafrost and Sunspots
by LDSocrates
Summary: When given an invitation to join a clan, the street urchin thinks it's her big break for a con. She soon finds that Clan Wildcard isn't all it seems though, and cannot help but feel that a shadow is looking over her shoulder...


**Hm... this place is almost empty. Well, I guess it's time to brush some dust off this fandom and break out the ol' GBA.**

**This is a bit of a project I've kept stored in the back of my head literally for **_**years**_** that I couldn't stand to keep locked up any longer. I've wanted to write this for so long that I can't even describe how excited I am to finally get started! Of all my stories, this is the one I'm the most personally attached to, I guess because it's been stewing around in my head the longest; I got the idea for this saga long before I ever even thought up "Days Gone By."**

**As Applecrow, my proofreader, has told me, this could turn out truly great, but because of all the elements I've got floating around, I'm going to have to keep them all straight. If I don't keep them organized, the whole thing will become dysfunctional. Here's hoping I live up to her expectations, and entertain – perhaps even touch – you along the way.**

**I dedicate this piece to Tomai, whose "Hitchhiker's Guide to Ivalice" story and series got me truly interested in FFTA as a fandom. You're a good writer, boy, and I've missed your work. Have a nice life, wherever you are.**

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy Tactics Advance is the copyrighted property of Square Enix. The concepts and characters, however, are mine, some created with a bit of help from my friends. I thank Square in advance for not being sue-happy law mongers like a certain major software company owned by a certain blonde con artist.**

* * *

"And stay out!"

A green and red figure was sent tumbling through the open door of the pub into the awaiting alleyway. The flying object, a moogle, landed indignantly on her stomach, kicking up dust upon impact. The small rodent flipped itself upright to glare at the Bangaa gladiator that had just made it into a living projectile.

"For the last time, I wasn't trying to steal anything, dammit!" the moogle, apparently female, protested in her high, unusually smooth voice.

"Don't even try to talk your way out of this one, you little pipsqueak," the bare-chested reptile hissed. "I saw you sneaking around, swiping tips from the tables. If you weren't so young, I'd turn you in to the authorities!"

"Well did you have to kick so hard?" the thief complained, rubbing her backside.

"Just be glad I rammed my boot up your furry behind and not my sword," the bouncer commented. "And unless you want your intestines turned to confetti, I suggest you don't let me catch you here again!"

With that last threat thrown, the bangaa slammed the door in the moogle's face.

The pickpocket growled as she picked herself up off the ground. She looked over her shoulder and flapped her red wings to make sure they weren't broken, and then patted her peach-colored pom-pom to check for any bruises. _Another day, another bar I get thrown out of,_ she thought wearily, satisfied there was no damage. _Where am I going to go for Happy Hour now?_

She dusted off her oversized green cloak and readjusted her chocolate-colored shorts with a smirk as she headed toward the bustling streets. _Well, I guess that ring I lifted off that Gria prude will fetch a golden gil or two. Thank Famfrit that nobody here in Cyril has grasped the concept of cavity searches yet._

The glare of the sun caused the vagabond to wince as she fastened the jade bandanna she wore on her head. The bazaar was packed, the patches of grass and the cobblestone streets completely obscured by shuffling feet. _Great; the day's in full swing. I might as well find a place to sleep so I'll be ready to swipe a few wallets when the sun goes down._

She was about to return to the back alleys when she noticed something from the corner of her eye. There, among the stalls and lively crowds, was an aged Nu Mou spellcaster making an exchange with what looked like a black-scaled member of the Bangaan clergy. But it wasn't the participants that had the girl interested; it was the large sack of coins that the priest had set on the table.

_That's easily gotta be five hundred gil!_ the thief marveled. _This is a haul I'd be crazy to pass up!_

Attempting to put on her best innocent face, she zigzagged her way around the bazaar, trying her best to blend in with the crowd. After a lap or two around the street, she finally found herself within reach of her target. She glanced at the two dealers, the Nu Mou whispering in the Bangaa's ear as the reptile scribbled on a piece of parchment. Both of them had their backs to the sack beside them, to her delight. Grinning ear to ear, the vagabond walked by and covertly put the bag in her pocket, never breaking stride.

_Jackpot!_

"You know, most people would consider stealing from a priest a sin."

If anything was to make her heart stop, the moogle would have never thought that a voice would do it. Beside her, in all his intimidating glory, was a Bangaa master monk, clad in the trademark crimson turban, vest, and brown baggy trousers. The muscles of his green-scaled chest were mostly covered in bandages, as seemed to be the custom of his profession. He had a hand on the pole propped over his shoulder, a long rod of silvery metal with a small blade on one end, and was sitting leisurely on the bench of one of the tables with his back to her.

"Put the gil down; no amount of wealth is worth your legs... or your life," he stated in his gravely voice.

The vertically-challenged rodent let out a small gulp. "Alright, alright; I don't want any trouble. I'm setting the money down on the ground…" She pulled the sack out into view and got down on one knee. Her ill-gotten gains had almost touched the floor but with a flourish of her coattails, she twisted around and flung a fistful of dust in the monk's face.

The bangaa reeled back, one hand holding his eyes in pain and the other swinging his weapon. The bladed tip cut through nothing but air as its intended target dove out of the way.

"So long, sucker!" she jeered as she scrambled away.

Her victim grunted, pumping a fist into the air after her. A quartet of white crescent-shaped blades of energy burst outward, homing in on her position.

"Oh shit!" the thief yelped. Time slowed down for her as her instincts kicked in. The first of the magic blasts was right on her tail as she rolled left, the projectile leaving a nice gash in the stone building next to them. The rest changed course as she landed on her fingertips and pressed upward, flipping to the side and back onto her feet as the second ran headlong into a tree just down the street. She landed on her feet and leaned backward, the third sliding right past her face and spiraling into the sky in an attempt to correct itself as she landed on her back. She grunted, pushing herself backward as the last landed in the street right between her open legs, cracking the stone.

The moogle let out a held breath, sighing in relief.

"What are you doing?!" the ebon-scaled, much more youthful sounding bishop asked, turning his head to face his compatriot.

"Look sharp, boy," the blinded Bangaa barked. "We've been robbed!"

"What?!" the younger reptile exclaimed, turning around to face his compatriot. "How?!"

"Never mind that, just stop her!"

"But Kemal, all I have are area-of-effect spells; if I cast one here, I might hurt civilians!"

"Then chase her and smack her with your staff, just do _something!_"

The third of the Air Renders came back down to earth, tearing straight through the support of the awning they were under, bringing it down on the two Bangaa, their client, and the other patrons.

She let out a small chuckle as she got to her feet and sprinted through the dispersing crowd, more out of relief than amusement. _Just a few more turns, and I'm in the clear,_ she thought to herself.

That notion came to a screeching halt when a crisp 'bang' pierced the air, and a sharp pain assaulted her side. The world seemed to stand still as the force of the impact propelled the moogle forward, the ground rushing to meet her. She skidded across the ground, the dirt and rocks scraping up her clothes before she came to a stop on her stomach.

A hiss escaped her lips as she clutched a hand to her side. When her furred hand came to rest on a wet stickiness, her fear had been confirmed: She had been shot.

_So, this is how I get caught; bleeding on the ground with a bullet in my ass,_ she thought, almost amused. _Not the most dignified way to end up in jail, but it's not like there's a damn thing I can do about that…_

As her vision began to blur, a pair of leather boots came into her view. She looked up to see a tall silhouette with a pointed, wide-brimmed hat standing against the sun.

"You here for my head too, mage?" the thief croaked out.

"And if I am?" came the answer.

"Well," she grunted, "I guess I ain't stopping ya'…"

With that, she laid her head down on the road as everything faded to black.

* * *

When the moogle drifter regained consciousness, several things immediately became apparent to her. For one, she was face-down on the ground. Second, her arms and legs were pinned down by something extremely cold. Last but certainly not least, she was completely exposed. As in _naked_. And she felt movement _right behind her._

Being a woman wise in the ways of the world, she did what came naturally.

She screamed her damn head off.

"R-rape! Rape! RAAA-!"

She felt something cold and smooth form around her lips, sealing them shut.

_Is this… ICE?!_ the girl seethed. _That… that black mage! Just my luck; I skip dropping the soap and go straight to the aftermath!_

The fact that her mouth had just been shut for her didn't deter her protests in the least; the she-moogle thrashed about, her pom-pom floundering about like a fishing bobber that was about to land the big one.

"Hold still!" a young male voice exclaimed. "I'm _not_ trying to hurt you." His pleas went unheeded, however, and she continued to thrash around desperately.

"Stop! If you keep that up, you're going to make the wound even bigger," he tried again. And, once again, his guest was not listening.

"I really should have seen this coming… fine then. Have your spaz attack. I can wait."

The street rat kept up her frantic bid for freedom, but even a moogle on adrenaline isn't impervious to blood-loss. Her clawing at the dirt began to slow down, and finally stopped altogether as she went limp. As she panted, her lungs begging for air, she lifted her head up, and noticed for the first time that there were fireflies flying through the air, zigzagging among the trees and the endless shadows they cast. She also heard a crackling sound behind her, most likely a campfire set up by her 'host.'

"Are you okay?"

_I'm tied down, I just woke up from getting knocked out, probably about to get knocked up, and now I'm dead tired. Yeah, I feel just dandy_, she privately fumed. If it weren't for the vice around her mouth, she would have said just that, plus a few more colorful words.

"Oh, right; that ice I put around your mouth," the hume realized. "Hm… okay, I'll dispel it, but I'm going to trust you not to scream, alright?"

As promised, the magic frost that firmly clung to her lips melted, leaving the captive girl's chin sopping wet.

Sputtering slightly at the sudden moisture, she asked, "Alright, buddy, where the fuck are we?"

The mage hummed in curiosity. "A moogle who doesn't say 'kupo' in every other sentence. Strange."

_Like I haven't heard _that_ before,_ she thought, rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, we are currently on the outskirts of Salikawood, just southeast of Cyril," he answered.

She let out a sigh of relief; if she managed to escape, home wouldn't be too far away. "Okay, round two: Who the hell are you? I mean, I can't exactly call you 'tom-peeking horndog' all your life."

"That wasn't what I…" he began, but paused. "Just… just forget it. Think what you want. As for me… my name is Nevan."

"Well then, _Nevan_," she spat, "mind telling me what you're doing back there?"

"Attempting to remove the bullet from this wound of yours. Or at least I _was_ until you woke up; it took me a while to just get you safely off that street, so I haven't had much time to work," he admitted. "Now that you're conscious, it's only going to get more painful, so bear with me, alright?"

"Like hell I will!" the detained moogle exclaimed.

"Look, unless I have your full cooperation, that bullet's going to stay in there and that wound's going to get infected." Nevan sighed. "Is there any way that I can get you to trust me?"

"How about you go suck a chocobo cock and choke on it; that'll put me in a good mood," she growled bitterly.

A drawn-out silence passed between them before the mage spoke again "Well… I can see this isn't working. …how about this?"

There was a scraping noise and before she knew what was happening, she was staring straight into the two most stunning cobalt eyes she'd ever seen. They were attached to the cleanly-shaven face of a human male who didn't look a day over nineteen. Several locks of chocolate-brown hair fell to either side of his face, the top of his head covered by the pointed straw hat that was the trademark of his profession. He was lying on his stomach, his arms crossed as he laid his head down on them to look at his wounded company, an almost blank look on his face.

"I'll tell you what," he started, "I dismiss the ice holding you down, and you promise to cooperate while I fix that wound of yours."

"I can patch it up myself," the moogle grumbled.

"If you want it to get worse, then go ahead. We both know you can't see back there without a mirror, and to poke around an open wound for a bullet by touch alone would be an even dumber idea."

She frowned. He was right, and she knew it; if she were to ever get into peak condition again, she was going to need help, and he was the only assistance in sight.

"Look," he continued, "if it will make you feel better, I'll let you hold your dagger; if I do anything you find objectionable, you can stab me all you want. Do we have a deal?"

She stared at him for several seconds, her amber eyes peering into his icy ones. Living on the streets as long as she did, she knew that everyone had a certain movement that they made when they were nervous, especially when they were lying. But as far as she could tell, he was either very good at deceit, or he was telling the truth.

"...Deal."

"Good." He picked himself up off the ground and stepped behind her. There was a rustling noise, and he saw his hands come from above her field of vision, setting down her weapon as the ice melted.

The moogle's hands instinctively lurched out to the dagger's handle. She calmed down as her fingers wrapped around the familiar leather grip. Her arm retracted as she looked it over for any damage or possible fraud. The handle looked to be of the same bronze-colored metal, and upon running her finger along the side of the silvery, thorn-shaped blade, she decided it looked and felt like the same material. She glanced at the cross-guard, sighing in relief as she saw the familiar symbol of a circle and waved spikes: a golden sun.

"Fuck!" she yelped, hissing in pain while she felt the human's fingers exploring her wound.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I need to get this bullet out before I apply anything."

"Can't you just give me a potion?" she spat, teeth clenched as he dug in deeper.

"Potions and white magic don't work like that," the operating mage said. "They regenerate your flesh; they do not remove foreign objects. If I gave you a potion now, that bullet would grind into your muscles until the day you died."

The she-Moogle bit down harder, tightening the grip on her dagger. "Could you at least give me something to dull the pain...?"

"No," he responded curtly. "The only sedative I have is nepenthis extract. It wouldn't knock you out, but it would relax your muscles and delay your reaction time. You don't trust me enough to take that."

She boiled a bit under her fur that he put words into her mouth like that, but...

"Damn right I don't," she grunted in pain at another struck nerve.

"Then you'll have to bear with me."

She opened her mouth to respond, but a choked gasp left her lips instead. _"Kupo!"_ she cried loudly, her body curling up in response to the sudden jolt of pain.

"Got it."

The moogle felt the boy's invading fingers withdraw from her injury, she herself growling in agony.

"Hm." There was a rustling sound, likely her host rummaging through a rucksack of some kind. "And here I thought you didn't say 'kupo.'"

She hissed through her teeth. "It's a reflex."

"It was good that I removed that bullet, at any rate," he commented. "It was dangerously close to your intestines, and would have breached them if you had left it in. Can you stand?"

"I can't sit on my ass, let alone move it," the female snarled. "What do you think?"

"Then we'll have to make due."

The she-moogle gave a small start as she felt something stiff that felt like rough cloth slip across her earthward lap and retract just as quickly. She peered over her shoulder to see the mage pulling at the end of the length of gauze that was now under her, placing it on the wooden stick in his hand and lacing it back through again.

She eyed the hume warily a moment, her host either not noticing her stare or ignoring it, and then relaxed again, staring out into the empty trees and kneading the grip of her jambiya in her hands.

"You seem fond of that thing," she heard him comment as he continued his work.

She scowled, her brow furrowing in irritation. "And what if I am?"

"It's not like a thief to get attached to possessions."

She held the dagger up and looked at it wistfully, the blade catching the silhouette of her caretaker's reflection cast against the fire. "Besides the clothes that _used_ to be on my back, this... is really all I have," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

The hume was silent for a moment, and then asked, "Where did you get it?"

She narrowed her eyes at his reflection. "Why would you care?"

"I think I should know whether that's stolen or not. I already found a stolen fortune ring."

The thief's ears perked up, a torrent of heat rushing to her face. "You looked in my-?!"

"Relax," Nevan interrupted. "It fell out on its own. Any other loot you've got stashed up there, you get to keep."

She opened her mouth to respond when she felt a shiver run up her spine at a moist substance being pressed up against her injury as he tightened her dressings and tied the cloth up, sealing the material between them and her wound.

"Blech," she gagged, "what is that?"

"Pearl moss," he said, the reflective surface of her dagger showing that he was tying up the bandages. "It should stop the bleeding enough for no lasting damage to be made."

"Why can't you just give me a damn potion to fix it now?" she seethed impatiently.

"Because those excite your nerves, intensifying the pain, and often do a shoddy healing job at best. They should only be used for dire situations, like in battle." Her hips were jostled with one last tug as he completed the knot.

Her left ear twitched in annoyance. "So, what, am I going to have to lay here for the next few days, hoping that a malboro won't come and eat my furry ass?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it." The ruffling of canvas was heard, presumably from the human putting his equipment away.

The moogle scoffed. "And what's one wimpy mage going to do against a monster?"

There was a small pause before he responded, "Let's just say me and monsters have an understanding."

"Tch, especially in the middle of mating season, right?"

"Do you usually insult people who help you?" he asked.

"Just the ones I don't like."

"I don't expect you to like me; I just want you to trust me."

"And why should I?" she snapped back over her shoulder. "For all I know, you just patched me up so you could pass me off as mint merchandise in Nubswood!"

"Slavers never travel alone. They come in packs."

"And the rest of your pack may be still rounding up little girls to prostitute."

"The market for Moogle courtesans is fairly small, trust me." She heard the young man let out a small yawn. "I doubt you would fetch a high price, anyway; moogle slaves are used to maintain what little tech there is on Helje Isle and the slaver's airships, and you're no engineer."

She scowled at his reflection, sitting by the fire. "So you're going to keep me for yourself?"

"You're disabled, I have a full mana reserve, and we're far away from civilization or anyone from it," he began lazily. "If I really was a slaver, and I did intend to keep you for my own perverse purposes, we would not be speaking right now."

The thief looked down and to the side, her eyes narrowing as her patience thinned. "Then why did you help me?"

She saw a movement in her blade that looked like his head turning to look away from her. "...I had my reasons."

"Yeah, and I had a bullet up my ass," she said snidely. "See? I can state the obvious too."

"Why are you so persistent?" the boy asked.

"Because everyone has an angle. Anyone who says that they do something out of the kindness of their heart is either setting up to rob you blind or trying to get into your pants."

A long silence passed between the two. The hume was staring into the fire, and the she-moogle, with a roll of her eyes, contented herself to staring out into the dark of the trees. She tucked her jambiya under her stomach and smoldered as if her gaze would make the trees wither.

"...what's your name?"

She glanced back at the mage over her shoulder, crossly looking back toward the forest. _My name? I can't even remember the last time someone asked me my name..._

"Katrina... my name is Katrina."

"What about your family names?"

"Don't have any," she stated casually.

"Katrina..." he repeated, "How would you like to learn a bit about magic?"

"Magic?" she scoffed. "Magic is for bookworms and wimps who don't have the skills or the balls to make it on their own."

"Can't argue there," the human admitted. "Mages tend to be glass cannons."

"Damn straight," she snickered. "Couldn't survive without their gil or their cushy homes."

"But you obviously can. How much more could you do with a spell or two under your belt?"

"Hrm..." She went deep into thought, trying not to flatten her ears. _Fireballs, lightning strikes... not exactly very stealthy. But... they would certainly be hella good for a distraction._ "I'm not exactly the brainy type; I don't think I could even look at a book without falling asleep." _I don't even know how to read..._

"I'll teach you myself. I don't even have any of my books on magic theory with me, anyway," he said, unphased.

She cocked an eyebrow. "What'll it cost me?"

"Not a thing."

"Saurianshit."

A few seconds passed before he responded. "I'll be level with you; I'm hoping that with a discovery of magic, you'll use it to do honest work."

She scoffed. "Better chance of getting a seeq to give to charity."

"I'm willing to take that chance if it gets someone off the streets. Besides," he added, "you'll be off your feet for a few days. Not much else to do."

The corner of the moogless' mouth curved up into a smirk. "Fine; I'll play along," she grunted, "don't count on me turning into the next Marche Radiuju, though."

"Duly noted."

A few scuffs of boots against earth later, and the moogle found a pillow dropped in front of her. The slight rustle and rush of air afterward tipped her off to the blanket she felt descending on her.

"You'll need these," she heard him add.

Her eyes were open in surprise for a moment, but they quickly narrowed back down into threatening slits. She tossed the blanket off with a reach of her hand, pushing the pillow to the side. "I don't _need_ any hand-outs."

He hummed slightly behind her. "You really do have problems with accepting the kindness of others, don't you?"

"What'd you expect me to do; bat my eyelashes, lift my skirt and say 'thank you, sir'?" Katrina asked.

"That would be somewhat hard to do without a skirt to lift... or anything else, for that matter," he pointed out flatly.

"Oh, go to hell!" she spat as she heard him lie down on something padded, probably on a bedroll of some kind.

"I hear the weather there is nice this time of year," he responded wistfully with another yawn. "Sadly, I haven't built up enough vacation time to go."

"Oh, believe me, I could _always_ send you on vacation there permanently."

"Heh... get in line."

The thief let out a slight "hmph" of indignation as she crossed her furred arms in front of her. She laid her head on the little cushion her forearms made, shifting her neck and shoulders to get at least somewhat comfortable. Her eyelids already heavy, she closed her eyes, the dances of the fireflies around her fading from her sight and from her mind.

As she slipped back into the recesses of her brain, she vaguely registered slight warmth covering her and the light ruffle of fabric against her fur. With that last brush against her senses, she fell asleep, images of a familiar starless night twinkling in her mind's eye.

* * *

**Introduction: complete. Just**_** saying **_**that relieves me a bit.**

**I must warn you, however, that this story will not be updated on a truly regular basis. I have three ongoing stories at the moment, and I have found that trying to force an update is not healthy. I will write whichever of the three receives a bit of inspiration; as such, updates for this story will be as erratic as an artist's muse, which I believe many of you will appreciate.**

**Hope you enjoyed this dabble into my world; please leave your honestly filled-out review at the door as you exit to get on with your lives.**


End file.
